


Handsome Devils

by Redwinglet



Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Opposites Attract, Porn, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing Clothes, conor falls for ned first, porn with a little plot, this fandom needs more fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redwinglet/pseuds/Redwinglet
Summary: "Don't worry, Conor. I'm not gonna 'bum you' in the night, alright?"That actually might be the last thing Conor's worried about.A dump for Conor/Ned stuff. They are only friends in the movie, that's why ff's exist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Conor masturbates to his fantasies about Ned. Somewhat PWP?

"I've never been pocketed." Conor says, without any smugness in his tone so he doesn't understand why Ned would take his revenge by pocketing _him_.

Typical Ned takes off with a casual goodbye, some hint of haughtiness in his stride as he goes away, being the first person to ever pocket star rugby player, Conor Masters.

"Bastard." Conor whispers under his breath, a smile over his lips, which is absolutely illogical if he's trying so hard to hide his crush on Ned. Ned's long pocketed his heart before he's pocketed his... well his pocket.

It happened when Ned gave that fiery response to his totally benign question. He honestly was just looking for a friend, a comrade. But Ned's assurance of "I'm not gonna 'bum you' in the night, alright?" quickly dismissed him as one of the other jocks who wanted to tease and humiliate him. But that fierceness and confidence are things Conor never had when it came to defending himself. Unlike Ned, who is so confident and unyielding under those sticks and stones, he traps himself in his own little cocoon just so he could avoid fighting a battle.

The admiration grew into something more when he observed Ned through the gaps in the 'Berlin Wall' while it was still erected. Most of the time it would be called peeping. And he was sure the 'Berlin Wall' wasn't the only thing erected.

Well, he found some lovely things on that slim, fair face. Lashes that look so soft when Ned's brooding over some old books he found in the library. He looks absolutely adorable when his brows are creased up like that. Conor all but wanted to run a finger over those lashes and have those grey-blue eyes look up at him. Puppy eyes. Ned has puppy eyes and he doesn't even know.

They make Conor jerk his hand a little bit faster in his pants when he thinks about it.

Admiration, crush. Add a bit of lust to it. Just a bit.

Conor's a young man. He needs to blow off steam, especially when he's rooming with his secret crush, who goes in and out of the room like it doesn't matter. And that's because Ned really doesn't know Conor's gay too.

Oh ignorance is bliss. Or it gives Conor bliss.

One time Ned forgets he's in the middle of undressing when his phone rings and proceeds to argue with his 'annoying' step-mother while pacing the room pant-less. The blue uniform top is still on, a few buttons open with the tie loosened and hanging very much teasingly in Conor's peering eyes over a magazine. He really isn't reading the magazine. He just picked it up so he can ogle at Ned's pale legs under the shirt's hem. Mid-conversation, Ned gets agitated and raises his hands in argument, granting Conor a quick peep at the pale curve of his bottom hiding behind his tightly fitted briefs. He so wants to cup his hands around those meaty globes and squeeze. That is more than enough material for Conor to regurgitate for his private session tonight.

Ned slips into a pair of shorts and leaves for the shower, shutting the door behind him. Conor fidgets in bed with his dilemma. He's hot and bothered, he wants to do it now but what if Ned comes back and sees him? Fuck, that is hot, too.

He jumps out of bed, switches off the lights and pulls the blinds over his window. He's got seven minutes tops. He gets down to business.

Alright, fast one, just get the job done, he tells himself. He dives underneath the covers, slips his hand down his pants, into his boxers and starts thinking about Ned in only that shirt. That goddamn uniform top where he rips it apart and lets the buttons fly. In his imagination, Ned is lying on his bed, looking up at him, lost and innocent, like a lamb ready to be slaughtered. Yes, the puppy eyes, the puppy eyes. His hand strokes a little faster. He swipes a thumb over the crown of his cock, the slick fluid aiding him in the quickened pace of his hand.

He makes Ned pliant and bidding in his mind, where those briefs are tugged down to his ankles. He wonders what Ned's look like. It must be pale like the rest of him, but incredibly red and flushed when he touches him. Ned's nipples must be pink, contrasting in the most erotic manner against the rest of his fair skin. It must feel really soft under his tongue when he drags it over. He would suck on them as he grips Ned's erection, twirling the tip of his tongue around those pink nubs and Ned would moan out for him like the sweet little student he pictures him to be.

Oh fuck, he's almost there.

Good god, must feel nice to press Ned against his body, feeling the smaller frame scorching hot against his skin, panting desperately in his ear as he fondles him down there. He imagines Ned responding eagerly to his touches, melting into a needy, wet mess underneath the cage of his body when he flicks his wrists over his weeping cock. Ned would beg so sweetly in his ear, wanting a release and calling, "Conor, Conor..." repeatedly with a wanton desperation in his tone that would rile him up so much.

He grips his own cock a little tighter, a sheen of sweat forming across his chest and back as he increases his speed. His calloused hands stroke the tender skin of his engorged cock, providing some form of additional simulation with the roughness. But it must feel good if Ned's smoother and smaller hands would hold his cock like this, won't it? Would it feel big in his hands? His fantasy fleets to another scene, with Ned sitting meekly at his feet, a sweet innocent blush over his cheeks as he fondles Conor's length which is already hard and leaking for him. Ned's pale slender thighs look delicious as they peek out from underneath his uniform top, the small tent forming in his briefs visible from the gap in his shirt.

Fuck, Ned. He moans out loud, too lost in pleasure to be checking the door. He'll just get this over and done with quickly.

He grips Ned's red-orange hair gently and guides that sweet mouth to his cock. Ned opens up so obediently for him, his lips stretching wetly over his length while his hands find the base of his cock where he can't fit into his sweet mouth. Ned eager sucks on Conor's cock while fumbling due to inexperience, the fluids dribbling over his chin as he struggles with swallowing them. The red flush on his face matches the fire of his red hair. As well as his perky nipples. Conor groans at the imagery and strokes almost with a vengeance.

Lovely, lovely Ned and your sweet mouth and cute nipples.

He gives a tight squeeze to imaginary Ned's meaty ass cheeks and groans out his roommate's name repeatedly in utter desperation.

He could almost see stars.

"Are you masterbating to me?"

Oh _fuck_ , what is that?

His eyes shoot open and the lights in the room are switched on, blinding him momentarily. Ned very benevolently shuts the door behind him, his back against it and looking absolutely scandalised.

Well, fuck.

"S-sorry?" He mutters stupidly, hand still on his cock and it is obvious what it is doing underneath the covers.

"You were calling my name! More than once!" Ned shrills, in some kind of mock-whisper as he tries to keep his voice down. Again, Conor is very grateful for that. He's not ready to out himself to the neighbours.

"Ned, I can explain..."

"I knew I wasn't the only gay in this school, but _you_? Oh my god... But, what the fuck? Why do you use me for beating material?" Ned groans in exasperation, slightly slumped against the door at the weight of his discovery. And if Conor's clear minded enough, he sees a blush over Ned's cheeks. Just like the one in his fantasy. Fuck.

The room is a little silent. Too silent.

"I... I'll leave... To let you... finish." Ned mumbles, slaps the light switch off and is about to let himself out.

Conor, come on say something!

"Wait! Stay!"

"What?"

"Stay! Please, I have something to tell you..."

"I don't really want to hear it!" Ned makes a face. He's afraid that Conor might confess his sexual fantasy and his role in that. It is too much information to take.

"No, really. Please."

And so they are sitting in the darkness, opposite one another on their own bed. Ned's hand is still on his own cock, which is still hard and he blames it for the atmosphere around them. That suspicious and dangerous atmosphere. And also because Ned's still in that uniform top, blushing.

"I... have a crush on you, Ned."

Ned stares at him with large eyes, speechless.

Conor looks down into his own lap, feeling a heat wave burning from his cheeks to his ears. "So... Please do not, walk around in our room without pants on. It makes me want to... do this." He nods to the tent still present under his covers, trying not to make any strange noises when the fabric of his boxers graze over the head.

There's a pause. He looks up hesitantly to find Ned staring back at him with lips pursed.

He exhales, some feeling like disappointment when Ned stands up, bed making a sorry creak for him, and walks to the door.

He hears a click instead.

"You need any help?"

He looks up at Ned who darts his eyes away shyly, and it way more erotic than his stupid fantasies.

  
The next minute, Ned's in his lap and they're making out. If this isn't the happiest day of his life, what is?

"Ned..." He moans against Ned's lips and darts his tongue in when the other boy's gasps for air. His hands are gripped tightly on Ned's hips over the uniform. Yes, the uniform. Ned's shorts are left on the bedroom floor when he confesses his fantasy. Sweet fucking Ned, so nice and kind to him to live this out for him. He curls two fingers over the band of Ned's briefs mid-tongue fight and drags it down. Ned's cock springs out from it beautifully. Yes, it is slightly smaller. Cute. And red.

Ned's judging glare says he knows that Conor is running reality against his own imagination and he is pleased with his guesses.

Conor grips the smaller cock in his hand and pumps with his calloused palm, sending Ned into a short series of convulsions. Nobody's touched him like that before, not a star rugby player with broad shoulders, rock hard abs and a pair of rough hands that send electricity up his body in strange ways. He hangs onto Conor with his arms around the athlete's neck, squeezing his eyes shut and mewling to the administrations Conor's giving him. Encouraged by the sweet noises, Conor goes for the perky nipples. Yes, they're fucking pink. He laps up at them enthusiastically, feeling his cock twitch with every of Ned's erotic mewls and moans.

"Quietly, Ned. They'll hear us." He chides playfully, nipping at Ned's earlobe.

"Fuck you." Ned breathes as Conor squeezes his cock with his large hand.

In a silent synchronisation, they shift so Conor can pull his length out from his boxers. Ned helps by tugging his pants down a little, his merman-line dazzling the other boy a little. But what comes springing out of Conor's boxers has Ned raising his brows a little too long. Conor kisses the surprise away and grips both their cocks together in one hand. Ned lets out a soothed sigh and Conor begins stroking and rocking his hips.

"Mm... slow down..." Ned asks, his breathes ragged and tone pliant as he plasters himself against Conor's naked torso and puts his lips on Conor's ear.

Conor obliges and stills his hand, just rocking his hips as he watches Ned squeeze his brows together in pleasure.

"Mmph..." Ned makes another delicious noise and Conor can't help but tease him, flicking a thumb over a rock hard nipple and loving the sound of that surprised yelp.

"Baby, I can't wait much longer." Conor's sultry voice caresses Ned's neck like a hot breath and he nods silently, giving consent. He himself can't hold up much longer either.

Conor speeds up, enthusiastic with Ned's green light and strokes their cock at regained speed. Ned jerks his hips along to his motion, desperate pleasure written all over his face as Conor's cock rubs against his. Conor comes first, white ropes ejaculating from his cock onto Ned's stomach as his eyes roll back in pleasure. He rides out his orgasm and pays more attention to Ned's cock, scraping a thumb over the slit of it and sends Ned into oblivion. Ned unconsciously arches his back as he comes, semen squirting out generously onto Conor's chest as he moans out his release. He slumps against Conor, panting in the afterglow with a smile on his lips. Best handjob ever, he concludes as he grips onto Conor who's also breathing raggedly beside his ear.

The afterglow fades away and Ned pushes himself off Conor's shoulder. They look into each other's eyes in the dark, covered in each other's semen, partially dressed.

"So..." Ned begins and while his eyes dart away for a fleet moment, Conor leans forward to kiss him on the lips, a chaste peck.

He looks back at Conor, a flurry of emotions in his chest and grins.


	2. Heater is down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As stated in the title, and both of them are cold.

The dormitory's heat is broken. The central heating system is down. It would be alright at the start of autumn but then it started raining cats and dogs in the middle of the night. Conor, woken up by the thunder and drumming of the rain against his open window, climbs out of bed to shut it. He spots Ned curled up against the wall, probably shivering from the cold blowing in from the window and shuts Ned's as well out of courtesy. Thunder rummages the night sky outside.

Conor sinks down on Ned's bed, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged. It's a little too cold to navigate barefeet on their wooden floors and to be wearing shirt and shorts. He folds his arms and peers back at the little man snoozing behind him. Ned's brows are furrowed, looking like he's being chased by a monster in his dreams but Conor reckons it's just the abrupt cold. Conor tears through a wide yawn and lays himself down beside Ned, smirking at the back of Ned's red ear. Must be cold, huh.

He moulds himself to fit Ned's bundled shape, thighs against Ned's blanketed bottom. Ned is as good as a cocoon, but still shivering. He exhales in the comfort of the heat radiating off Ned's back to his cool cheeks and Ned responds with a groan.

"You're up?"

"Yea, I would be if somebody comes spooning me in the middle of the night." Ned's accent seem to thicken with sleep, or is it the cold?

Conor chuckles before clearing his throat from the dryness. Ned turns around, eyes closed and hot breath fanning over Conor's lopsided smile, "You coming in?"

He lifts his blanket a little and Conor squirms in, his bare thighs rubbing against Ned's clothed legs for warmth in a second. Ned frowns at the invasion of space and nudges Conor in the chest when their breathes come to close. Conor presses Ned against him tighter, pulling him away from the wall.

"The wall's cold, love." Conor mumbles when Ned's prettily pressed underneath his chin and burrowing in his chest, against his worn-out cotton shirt which is almost threadbare. It is effectively conveying warmth between the two of them. One of Ned's hand, the one that is not squished against Conor's chest, finds the other boy's thigh cold like marble. It's almost as hard as marble. Which makes Ned want to pinch him.

"Ouch, stop." Conor swats Ned's hand away but smiles at his boyfriend groping his muscled thigh with a sort of glee and lust that will only surface when he's drunk or adorably drowsy like now. Conor's brows arch, scadalised and amused when a cold hand glides its way into his shorts against his bum. He peers down, chin against his chest. Ned's asleep, or is he? A squeeze confirms his suspicion.

Ned snickers cheekily when Conor yelps as the pain and from his cold fingers.

"Dirty old man!" Conor plucks Ned's hand from underneath his shorts and grips both his wrist in one, placing them above the shorter boy's head where he can see them. He straddles Ned's hips and bends down for a kiss. Ned turns away, frowning and complaining about bad breath. Conor grins and holds his small face with one hand, planting a stubborn kiss to his thin lips. Ned grumbles but gives up the front by reciprocating. Conor's full lips are plush against his own, the covers suddenly getting a little unbearable with the heat. He kicks the blanket off and finds Conor grinding down against him.

"Woah there, big guy. I thought you have morning practice?"

Conor's irritated groan is enough explanation. A calloused rugby hand finds its way into his pants and there's that. Ned wriggles his wrists free from Conor's grip and tugs at the other boy's shorts. His hands roam the sculpted abs and firm buttocks straddling his hips. Conor breathes loudly above him, their lengths rubbing against one another's. They're not ready for anything further yet so stroking each other is sufficent. For now.

Ned whimpers sweetly against Conor's cheek when one of his nipples are pinched by playful fingers snaking underneath his shirt. He can make out the obscene silhouette of Conor rocking against him from the dim lighting and thunder outside. He bites softly on Conor's plump lips when the other boy grips both their cocks a little tight. Conor's grinding rocking quickens into an erratic pace and then both of them are gone.

"Well, you're doing the laundry." Ned states plainly as he lifts up the hem of his pajama top covered in their fluids. Conor helps him pull the shirt over his head and slumps back down onto him, crushing his smaller body with his broad frame. But Ned's not complaining. The heater's down anyway.


End file.
